


Losing Control

by Honeybeebatch



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Big Brother Mycroft, Kid Mycroft, Kid Sherlock, Mentions of weight loss, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft IS the British Government, Mycroft-centric, POV Mycroft Holmes, Post-Canon, Post-The Final Problem, Teen Mycroft, The Final Problem, Unhealthy Weight Loss, Weight Issues, weight loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 13:35:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeybeebatch/pseuds/Honeybeebatch
Summary: A small ficlet thingy that I did for a fanfiction competition. The theme was disappearance. A little look into the aftermath of the events of Sherrinford on Mycroft and even a look at the past.





	Losing Control

**Author's Note:**

> This is short and sweet (well, not really sweet) and I have no intention of adding to it but if you want me to, I may add another chapter or something just to complete it. I want to keep it short and not give myself another project. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

The moment that Mycroft Holmes knew he'd lost control, was shortly after the Sherrinford incident. He was at home, in his study, reading through a pile of files that needed to be sorted by the morning or else he may lose his job, due to recent events. The sun was rising and casting a golden glow into the room as he turned off the lamp and continued to flick through each file one by one, making sure that each was at the highest possible standard. When he was done, he placed each file in the relevant pile to be collected before he went to work and then filed once again when he reached the office. His usual posture was abandoned, shoulders hunched over and instead of having one long leg crossed elegantly over the other, his legs were parted, creating a triangle and the line of his trousers was ruined. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his suit jacket was discarded thrown carelessly across the chair on the other side of the room.

He was aware that his clothes were baggier than usual, the impeccable fit he was used to was gone and his clothes crinkled around his thinner body. The only reason his trousers were still sat comfortably on his hips was the thick leather belt that was wrapped around him, tighter than usual with a hole he had punched through four nights previously. He knew that Sherlock would be the first to comment on his weight if he'd seen him in the last few weeks. Mycroft was using every possible excuse to avoid his younger brother, work trips and business meetings that could not be avoided. Their only interaction was via text. He knew his voice would give too much away so he gave in to his brother's preferred method of communication. He pushed the thought aside and swivelled his chair to face the window. The sky was a brilliant shade of golden yellow and the clouds, lining the sky like soldiers in formation; range with purple shadows facing him. It was the same colour as his brother’s favourite shirt. He pushed the thought of his brother aside as he was reminded of a childhood rhyme.

Red sky in the morning, shepherds warning.

 

* * *

 

 

_Mycroft stared out of the kitchen window. The sky was a blazing inferno of reds and oranges that filtered in through the glass and landed in lines across the floor and table. It was early, too early for anybody else to be up but Mycroft had work to do, not homework, he did that during lunch break, no he had real work to do, university level work. He was hoping for an early admittance and with his level of genius, it was entirely possible. A professional had accessed him as remarkable. But it was his sister who went beyond, an era-defining genius. He swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. Eurus was gone now._

_It was safer now. That's what he told himself. They were safer without her there, in their lives. His parents didn't see it that way but they didn't see a lot of things. They didn't notice her manipulations, her jealousy and when they did, it was too late. They could never bring that boy back. He was lost now. Mycroft felt lost too. He placed the empty coffee cup in the sink and submerged his hands in the water, it was hot, hot enough to burn his hands on the first touch but he liked it. Mummy never let him drink coffee, so he scrubbed the cup until the only smell left was that of the fairy washing liquid. When he was done, he placed the cup on the drain and put the damp tea bag he'd soaked in water in the bowl on the side. It was easier to lie when there were some truths involved. Eurus taught him that._

_He shook the thought from his head, fists clenching in the tea towel as he dried his hands. Mummy had been in overdrive for the last ten months, worrying about the two children she still had in her care and the effect that her youngest had had on them. Sherlock was changed, his mind altered by the events that had taken place. Victor. The Fire. Mycroft's jaw clenched painfully. His younger brother was different now, colder, less caring, he always had been the emotional one but now it seemed he'd shut off his emotions. He didn't even remember Eurus. Mycroft would have been fascinated if he wasn't saddened by the change in his brother. It broke his heart to see Sherlock now._

_Mycroft's change was more physical. After Eurus had been taken from them and they'd moved into a new house, Mycroft's weight had declined dramatically till he was a mere shadow of the boy he used to be. He was no longer a boy. Now, he was a man. A man that had to protect his family and himself. The clothes he wore were too big, sagging around his body like a loose layer of skin. He noticed the way his parents looked at him and exchanged glances, worried about his sudden transformation but they could do nothing to help him, not now._

_The sky was blue now. The birds were singing outside. There were footsteps above the head, Mummy was awake. Mycroft sat at the table and stared at the psychology notes. There was no use being sad about it, he supposed._

 

* * *

 

 

Mycroft pushed the thought from his mind as his phone vibrated again. He picked up the device, another text from Sherlock.

_Will I be seeing you today? -S.H_

Mycroft let his eyes wander over the words. He took a breath, locked the phone and placed it on the desk. He closed his eyes. It was time to get to work, the country wouldn't run itself.


End file.
